


402

by Ifrit



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Incest, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, This is pretty vanilla, all things considered, maybe a little bit of plot, oh my god they were neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifrit/pseuds/Ifrit
Summary: "Now, Nero wasn’t one to slut-shame, but 402 took “casual sex” to a whole new level.  Nero doesn’t think he’s ever heard the same voice twice.  Sometimes, the door opens more than once, whether or not the first visitor had left yet.  Those nights are the worst, because three voices are somehow exponentially louder than two through the paper-thin walls separating their bedrooms."Nero is Tired.





	402

**Author's Note:**

> this would not have been posted if not for Maruwu and Ray (and nathan's christmas album)
> 
> now please end me
> 
> FANART BY RAYYYYYY (@killm___e) <https://twitter.com/killm___e/status/1078018046227210240>

 

7:00 PM.  Nero gets home from work.  He flings open the door to his shitty apartment with his shitty, peeling wallpaper, and his shitty fucking neighbors, and falls onto the couch to vegetate.

9:00 PM.  That night’s rerun of Friends is playing on TV.  Nero has just now gotten the energy to get up from the couch and make dinner for himself, which is dollar-store pasta and week-old stale bread from the nice old lady living down the hall - his only nice neighbor.

12:35 AM.  Nero gets ready for bed.  He knows he should get sleep earlier - he has to be up by five so he can help Kyrie proof dough - but he knows he’ll just be woken up in the end.

By who?

Tenant four-zero-fucking-two.

12:47 AM.  Like clockwork, Nero hears the door to 402 open with that janky creak all the doors in the complex opened with, followed by the barely-muffled sounds of his next-door neighbor’s baritone voice accompanied by a high-pitched, female one.

Some nights it’s women.  Some nights it’s men. It’s why Nero feels the need to specify, because his neighbor is a fucking manwhore.

Now, Nero wasn’t one to slut-shame, but 402 took “casual sex” to a whole new level.  Nero doesn’t think he’s ever heard the same voice twice. Sometimes, the door opens more than once, whether or not the first visitor had left yet.  Those nights are the worst, because three voices are somehow _exponentially_ louder than two through the paper-thin walls separating their bedrooms.

Nero considers it a direct slight from god that 1. his bedroom shares a wall with 402’s bedroom, and 2. 402 is somehow attractive enough to have _nightly_ visitors and make _every single one of them_ scream for more.  Impressive, yes, but also _annoying as hell_  when all Nero wanted to do was sleep.

Nero, being gay, could only harbor resentment towards 402 when the nightly visits began with solely female visitors.  The first night 402 brought a guy over to fuck…

Well.

Nero would never admit to anything, but there was one extra pair of boxer briefs in his laundry that week, and every week that stars 402 with a male companion.

Even then, the sexual frustration is so bad that no matter how hard Nero tries, he can’t ignore that throbbing little (well, not _little_ ) problem between his legs.  Every night like that ended with Nero making a hasty trip to the bathroom.

And so, here he was, trying to relax with a cup of chamomile tea on the nightstand and a book propped open to rest on his knees.  The anxiety, the _anticipation_ of waiting for the other shoe to drop was excruciating.

Nero swore he could hear the sounds of clothes rustling to the floor on the other side of the wall.  He shouldn’t be listening so intently, he really shouldn’t, but the words on the page turn to gibberish as his senses narrow in on the creaking of the bed behind him.

The decision to put down his book is hard-fought, his inner voice screaming at him to finally just ignore his asshole neighbor or at least knock himself out with barbiturates, do _anything_ other than listen to 402 fuck another faceless visitor.

There’s a soft little _whump_ that emanates from the other room, followed by a far heavier creaking of the bed springs of 402’s shitty mattress.  A few giggles float across the wall, but those innocuous sounds eventually dissolve into loud moans from the girl, which are accompanied by the wet sounds of… something sexual.

What?  It’s not like Nero can _see_ what’s going on.  Sure, he could imagine that the girl is getting eaten out, but why would he?  The image unsettles him, making him feel vaguely gross for as long as he holds it in his mind’s eye.

The foreplay serves as a brief moment of respite for Nero, as 402 is always mindful and spends an especially long amount of time making sure his partners are _taken care of_ before they really get down to business.  Not that Nero cares, or anything. It’s just interesting, and probably the reason why 402 has such a high body count.  Word of mouth, maybe.

Fuck, Nero’s rambling in his head; so much so that he almost tunes out the girl’s cries, which have begun to crescendo.  Great. Looks like 402 brought home another screamer.

Then the squeaking begins.  Rhythmic, piercing, _insufferable_ squeaking that instantly gives Nero a migraine.  Despite this, he can’t help but search out the deeper of the two voices as he burrows under his comforter, not having quite enough conviction to smash his pillow over his ears and block out those infernal, lewd noises.

_“Fuck, you’re fucking tight, huh?”_

It’s all too easy for Nero to shut his eyes tight and pretend 402 is behind _him,_ fucking him and telling _Nero_ that he was so tight, that he felt so good when he fucked him.

Alright, maybe he was lying when he said it was only on the nights when 402 had a male visitor that Nero came in his pants.  He wanted to pretend he had at least a _little_ self-control, but what little control he had had dwindled when he realized 402 _wasn’t straight._

Which opened up a whole new world of possibilities that Nero was frankly not prepared for.

Thankfully, the girl’s howling moans were consistent enough to tune out in favor of 402’s continuing dirty talk, punctuated by short, husky hitches of breath that sounded almost like _growling_.

 _“Take it._ **_Take it_ ** _.  I want to hear you_ **_scream_ ** _.”_

 _No_ , Nero pleaded silently.  402 might want to hear the bitch scream, but Nero decidedly did _not_.  

A sharp _crack_ rang through the still air, which Nero could only guess was 402 smacking the girl’s ass.  It was so loud that Nero swore he could feel the sting spread across the skin of his own backside, the prickle of that phantom sensation raising goosebumps on the surface.

_“Show me where you want it.”_

Shifting to lay on his side, Nero continued to staunchly try and ignore his now insistent boner, which gave a stubborn twitch with every feral groan and solid slap he heard from the other side of the wall.  He tried - and failed miserably - to stop himself from imagining what it would be like to spread himself for what he could only assume was 402’s massive cock.

 _“Oh, you’re_ **_desperate_ ** _for it, aren’t you.”_

The dark chuckle that leads into the taunt is the hottest thing Nero thinks he’s ever heard, and - yeah, Nero’s done pretending like 402 doesn’t hit every single one of his buttons.

Nero spares a glance at his phone, which tells him it’s - oh, _shit,_ it’s almost three in the morning.  He’s harder than hell, sure, but he needs sleep more than he needs to get off, fearing Kyrie’s wrath if he ends up slumped against the stand mixer and letting the sourdough get overworked again.  Ignoring the way his dick practically _screams_ at him as he straightens himself out so he can sit up, Nero makes a fist and hits the wall three solid times without saying a word, hoping 402 finally gets the hint and quiets down.

He ends up laying in bed in a starfish pose, keeping his thighs as far away from his sensitive parts as possible so he can calm down and actually go to sleep.  In the meantime, things certainly have quieted down, but it’s almost _too_ quiet - which is explained when Nero hears a fight start up behind the wall.

_“You never said how thin the walls were going to be!”_

_“You never asked!”_

_“Asshole!  Have your neighbors been listening the entire time?!”_

_“I don’t know, it’s not like they’ve ever said anything before!”_

The sound of (presumably) the girl frantically getting up from the bed and gathering her things is just what Nero’s boner needs to die, which finally lets him drift into a fitful, two-hour long sleep before his alarm rudely wakes him in the morning.

“Nero?”

The boy in question has his face mashed into a ball of dough, still unresponsive even as Kyrie continues to call his name.

“Nero?  Nero - _Nero!_ ” Kyrie’s bark of affronted surprise wakes Nero right up with a snort, drool wiping from his chin as he jolts upright.

“Ugh… Kyrie?  I’m sorry,” he mumbles sleepily, rubbing his bleary eyes to at least try and wipe the sleep off his face.

Kyrie is mad in that quiet way of hers, though she doesn’t take it out on Nero in a way that would make him feel unpleasant.  She knows well enough what’s keeping Nero up, and though she’s offered countless times for Nero to stay at her place above the bakery until he’s able to afford a better apartment, he’s turned her down every time.

More than anything, Nero hates owing people.  He already owes Kyrie so much, her having hired him to work for her in the first place; he’d rather die than take advantage of their friendship and stay at her place rent-free.

Kyrie sighs, dusting a stray bit of flour out of Nero’s fringe.  “Nero, I understand how hard it must be to have to work the same hours as me while you’re living in that awful apartment.  Just come in later in the mornings, please. For me?”

Nero shakes his head, more flour coming loose and spraying around him in a halo of reflected light. “Kyrie, no.  You can’t do all this prep work by yourself unless you start two hours earlier. I can’t do that to you!”

“Nero, you have to sleep _eventually_ .  Does the man in 402 have sex _every_ night?”

“Some nights more than once,” Nero mourns, shutting his eyes tight and leaning so far back in his stool that it threatens to tip over.  When he opens his eyes again, he sees Kyrie looming over him with such a kind expression that it kind of makes him want to cry.

“How about we compromise,” she begins, resting a comforting hand on the top of Nero’s head.  “Go get the displays ready. There’s not much left to do, so go take a nap upstairs when you’re done.  I’ll let you know when customers start coming in so you can work the counter.”

Nero lets out a heavy sigh, silently thanking whatever god that existed for giving him Kyrie.  “Now that I can do.” He tips back forwards before getting to his feet, dusting himself off and handing his apron to Kyrie before making his way to the front.

Kyrie hadn’t been kidding when she said there wasn’t much left to do - all she’d left for Nero was a few racks of tarts to fill and stick in the display shelves, which took no more than ten minutes.  However, the idea of just fucking off to sleep while Kyrie did all the work didn’t sit well with Nero, and he ended up tidying up the dining area and writing the day’s specials on the chalkboard they set outside to attract passerby.

When Kyrie re-emerged from the back room and saw Nero still up and about outside the shop, she didn’t look too happy, brows drawn together as she regarded Nero’s haggard expression.  “Nero,” she sighed, pulling him inside the store, “why won’t you listen to me? I can’t have you working like this!”

“I can’t just let you do all the work!” Nero insisted, resisting Kyrie’s hold as gently as he could so he could get behind the register.  Kyrie stood rigid, lips pursed in frustration and tightly-closed fists held close to her sides as she looked like she was about to start shouting at Nero.  But what could she do? It was just her and Nero working in the shop, and it was physically impossible for Kyrie to do everything on her own. Eventually, she gave up, practically deflating and shaking her head as she disappeared back into the kitchen.  Customers had begun to show up, and she couldn’t risk making a scene in front of them.

Nero felt bad - of course he felt bad, Kyrie was his best friend.  Nero had _never_ seen her that angry, which made him that much more resentful towards 402, the cause of his drowsy incompetency.  There wasn’t much time to dwell over it though, the morning rush steadily streaming in and giving Nero something else to focus on.  

The first few hours of the day moved by unremarkably.  Nero could feel his energy draining behind the smile forcefully plastered onto his face in the name of customer service, but no one gave him too hard of a time, which he was eternally thankful for.

That luck of his ran out just before noon.  The chocolate chip cookies had run out, and though Kyrie was in the middle of making a new batch right that second, the customer wanting some had decided to give Nero a hard time instead of just waiting like any sane person would.

That strained smile of Nero’s began to fall the longer the customer continued to yell, and Nero’s already short fuse had burned out with what little sleep he’d gotten that night.  Having had enough, Nero slams a fist on the counter so hard that the tip jar almost tips over-

-only for the customer in line behind Nero’s tormenter to step between them.

Seeing red, Nero has to blink a few times, stunned by the sudden interruption.  He’s about to tell the customer off for butting in, but the customer is faster, holding up his hands as he attempts to placate the person in front of him.

“Hey, hey, there’s no need to yell at the poor kid.  He’s not the one making the goods, you know?”

Something pings at the back of his mind at the sound of the man’s deep, husky voice, raspy as if his vocal cords were strained.  He doesn’t think much of it, more preoccupied with dealing with the asshole customer without getting violent.

“Excuse me?” The customer barks, which would be intimidating if she weren’t good foot shorter than the man.  “Who do you think you are? This doesn’t concern you!” Nero can’t help but silently agree - he can handle himself, damn it.  He doesn’t need some random guy white-knighting his way in to his rescue, no matter how attractive his voice might be.

Nero takes the time to survey the man further, and - okay, it’s not just his voice that’s hot.  He’s sure he’s not the only one in the cafe who’s thinking he’d love to climb the guy like a tree, regardless of how worn-out he looks in sweatpants and a t-shirt stretched tightly over his…

Fuck, he can’t have those thoughts on the clock.  His jeans would do nothing to hide his boner, especially when his crotch is level with the pastries in the display.

He’s brought back to reality when the man responds, a tinge of amusement underlying his words.  “It concerns me when you’re holding up the line. Admit it,” he sighs, putting a hand on his hip and brushing the hair out of his eyes, “you’re just making a scene so you have an excuse to check the kid out.”

Now _that_ makes Nero pay attention, eyes flying open and staring at the counter.  The other customer is just as shocked, spluttering indignantly as her rage builds at the accusation.  The man doesn’t let her get in a word edgewise, though, a smirk growing on his face as he continues to taunt the woman.  “You think I didn’t see you staring at the kid’s ass the entire time we were in line?”

That only prompts more spluttering, but at least this time the woman has the presence of mind to sound embarrassed about getting caught - which means the man was right.  Nero probably would have been outraged at the discovery if not for the infectiously smug attitude emanating from the man standing in front of Nero.

Thankfully, Kyrie bursts out of the double-doors of the kitchen with a fresh batch of cookies in hand, Nero getting right to work to package them for sale so he can finally get rid of the bitch.

“Have a nice day!” he calls out as she leaves in a hurry, rolling his eyes when he doesn’t get a response.  Coward.

Now that the nuisance is gone, it’s just him and the man who had helped him out - well, them and the three other customers waiting patiently in line, all regulars who cared more about Kyrie’s pastries than having to wait a little longer in line so Nero can deal with a dispute.

“Sorry you had to deal with that,” the man sighs, a hint of that smug smile still playing on his lips.  

“ _You’re_ sorry?  I should be the one apologizing,” Nero retorts, though he thinks maybe he should act a little more grateful instead of sounding annoyed.  “I mean. Thank… you. For the help.” The words get stuck in his throat, his pride getting in the way of showing actual gratitude.

“Don’t mention it.  Besides, I can’t pretend to be completely innocent.”  He moves over to the display and bends down to see what he wants, meeting Nero’s eyes and winking through the glass when he follows with his tongs at the ready.  He points at a mini strawberry shortcake and stands back up, smiling lazily as he admits, “I only noticed that she was checking you out because I was, too.”

Nero pauses in the middle of ringing the guy’s order up, head whipping up to meet his gaze.

“I’d rather be straight up than lie about it, kid.”  He leans forwards against the counter, watching Nero as he tried his best to get back to punching the keys on the register.

“You keep calling me ‘kid’.  I have a name, you know,” he mumbles, turning back to face the guy with a steely look on his face.

“Mind telling me what it is, then?”

Would it be worth it to give the guy his name?  Under any other circumstance, Nero wouldn’t bother or give him a fake name so he’d leave him alone as soon as possible.  But two things were standing in the way of Nero doing just that. One: he’d just done Nero a huge favor, and two: he had the kind of face that Nero would begrudgingly admit to wanting to see again.

“Nero.”

“Nero, huh?  Cute name. Matches your pretty face.”

Alright, that was quite enough flirting.  It was certainly more than Nero could really handle, so he shoved the shortcake in the man’s general direction as he signed the receipt.  If he noticed the redness spreading to the very tips of Nero’s ears, he was gracious enough not to say anything about it.

Sliding the receipt and pen forwards, the man took the pie with a wink before sauntering towards the door.  When his back was turned, Nero took a look at the receipt - along with his signature, the stranger had left his phone number and his name - Dante.

Nero contemplated throwing the receipt away, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Instead, he stuffed in into the front pocket of his apron and promptly forgot about it for the rest of the day, all the way up until closing time.

It was only when he slumped down onto his couch back home that he realized that he’d forgotten the receipt in his apron at the bakery.  Not that he planned on getting in touch with _Dante_ anytime soon - or ever, really.  Nero had better things to do than go on dates, like… like… like…

Like listening to his neighbor have sex.

Running a hand down his weary face, Nero groaned into the empty space of his apartment and really gave thought to his life choices.  Sure, Dante had been attractive, but the causal cockiness of his demeanor just didn’t sit right. He looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t call back the morning after - the kind of guy who’d break up over text.

Now, that wasn’t very fair of Nero to say, he knew.  Honestly, he should stop giving himself excuses to get out of first dates - he hadn’t been laid in _ages_ , and the frustration was starting to really take its toll on Nero, so much so that the only way he’d gotten off in the past few months was by listening to 402’s nightly trysts.

His sanity was starting to take a hit, and _not_ just because of sleep deprivation, though it definitely didn’t help.  Speak of the devil...

Nero hears thundering footsteps behind the wall connecting his and 402’s apartments that lead to the sound of the door creaking open.  Already? Nero spares a look towards his phone’s lock screen, noting that… wow, 402 is starting early. It’s only 7pm. God, Nero really didn’t need this today.  He was planning to get in bed at 8 so he could at least get a sparse four hours of sleep, but 402 seemed intent on fucking up his schedule once again.

The new voice was male, which Nero tried not to be too excited about.  Maybe… maybe 402 was just having a friend over for dinner.

That possibility was blasted right off the table when a _thud_ emanated from the wall right behind Neros bed.  That sound could only mean that one of them pinned the other to the wall, which Nero shouldn’t find as hot as he does - okay, no.

This wasn’t happening.  Not tonight. Not after all the fuck-ups he’d made at the bakery, not after having to deal with that nasty customer, and _certainly_ not after having not gotten any sleep for the past _two months._

Working himself into a blind rage, Nero flung the covers off and stormed over to 402, pounding his fist on the front door so hard he can hear the doorframe rattle.

Nero has to wait a few seconds before he hears footsteps approaching.  He has his arms crossed tightly across his chest, features drawn into an intense frown that hopefully intimidates 402 into finally giving him some peace and fucking quiet.

He doesn’t know what to expect when the door opens, but it _certainly_ isn’t _this._

“Dante?!”

Nero’s furious expression gives way to one of complete surprise and bewilderment, which is matched by Dante’s shocked stare.

A few seconds of silence pass between them, and Nero doesn’t even notice the other guy standing behind his neighbor until the tension thickens to an uncomfortable degree.

“Uh… I feel like I’m missing something, here.”

Dante, as if snapping out of a trance, shakes his head and turns his head to face his visitor.  Handing him an errant pair of jeans, he sighs, “Read the room, Craig. I think we ought to reschedule.”

Craig just gives the two of them an odd look, pulling the jeans on and hurriedly making his exit as Dante and Nero continue to stare at each other as if daring the other to speak first.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Dante who breaks the silence.  “ _You’re_ 401?”

Huh.  So they both referred to each other by their apartment numbers.  In a weird way, Nero almost found it cute.

“And _you’re_ 402.”

“Yep.  ...That’s me.”

Another beat of silence passes.

“Do you know how much sleep I’ve lost because you can’t just keep it in your pants?” Nero blurts out, too angry to regret the outburst.  “This is an apartment complex, not a hotel.”

Dante opens his mouth as if to snap right back at Nero, but something in his expression changes as if he’s just realized something.  His mouth closes on that same infuriatingly smug smile Nero had seen that morning, and oh, he knows he’s not gonna like what comes out of Dante’s mouth next.

“You had… what, two months to interrupt?  Nero…” Dante gives him a slow, burning once-over, gaze pausing below Nero’s waist.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to enjoy listening in.”

It feels like his entire body erupts into flames, a crimson flush blooming from the center of his chest and razing outwards until his face is _burning_ red.

In lowering his gaze, he realizes that he ran over in nothing but a ratty t-shirt and his underwear, as he’d just been getting ready to sleep.  There was nothing standing between his boner and Dante’s notice. _That_ was what Dante was staring at, fuck - Nero didn’t think he could blush any harder than he already was, and he quickly pulled the hem of his shirt over his crotch to stop Dante from _ogling_ him.

“Hey!” He barked, using his free hand to snap his fingers in front of Dante’s face.  “Eyes up here, asshole!”

Dante’s gaze lingered, taking a few moments before complying with Nero’s demand.  “I’ll take that as proof that I’m right,” he drawls, opening his door wider so he can step into Nero’s space.

What the fuck was happening?  “You’re _wrong_ ,” is all Nero says, too flustered to formulate an actual comeback.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Dante murmurs before bringing Nero in with a hand at the back of his neck for a kiss.

What ensues is the most confusing kiss of Nero’s entire goddamn life.  His eyes are wide open as Dante tilts his head to accommodate Nero’s lips, closed as they press insistently against his.

Nero should be fighting this.  He should be pulling away. He should _slap_ Dante for the sheer _audacity_ of this all - but instead, he closes his eyes and puts his hands on Dante’s shoulders, pushing him back inside his apartment and kicking the door closed behind them both.

The gasp of surprise Dante makes is embarrassingly gratifying.  Nero takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, wet noises filling the apartment as he practically tongue-fucks Dante’s mouth.  It’s clear that months of sexual frustration are coming to the surface, especially when Nero’s fingers delve underneath the waistband of Dante’s sweatpants.

No underwear.  Classy. Nero rolls his eyes behind his closed eyelids, though his annoyance is quickly quashed when he feels just how _big_ Dante is.

Holy shit.  Holy _shit_ .  This dick could _kill_ Nero, and Nero would be grateful for it.

Trying to pretend like he wasn’t going crazy, Nero pulls back from the kiss to rest his forehead against Dante’s shoulder, panting from the exertion. The moment is anything but tender, though.  “Make yourself fucking _useful_ and finger me, _Dante_ ,” Nero hisses into Dante’s ear while kneading the sensitive crown, feeling an obscene amount of satisfaction when Dante shivers at the command.

Dante complies with a hand gripping Nero’s ass, and it’s just as well - Nero would need the prep if he was going to fit something _that_ big inside him. They don’t end up kissing again - Nero’s too focused on testing Dante’s girth and the fingers probing him to have the coordination for it.

Dante’s fingers are long and thick, something Nero had noticed offhand when he watched him sign the receipt that morning.  One finger joined the one already inside him to press against his walls on their way out, _dragging_ sinfully against Nero’s sweet spot and making him cry out against Dante’s skin.  He had to have some way to silence himself in this godforsaken apartment, so he bites down _hard_ into the skin of Dante’s collarbone, tasting hints of blood.

Dante lets out a hiss of pain but says nothing to stop Nero, cock pulsing in his grip.  Taking the hint, Nero licks the wound he’d just inflicted and drags his teeth up along Dante’s neck, biting down just below the curve of Dante’s jaw with enough force to leave a mark.

As if in retaliation, the fingers inside Nero thrust in firmly where Dante _knows_ Nero’s prostate is, pressing insistently in waves that send shockwaves up and down Nero’s spine.  

In his desperation, Nero had begun to rut against Dante’s thigh in time to his strokes.  Of _course_ Dante notices, letting out a deep chuckle that rumbles through his chest and shakes Nero to his core.  His legs suddenly feel like jelly and it takes everything Nero has to not fall on his knees in front of Dante.

“I do love it when they’re eager,” Dante remarks to himself with a chuckle, pulling his fingers out of Nero and pushing off the wall.  He slides a hand along Nero’s thigh to coax the kid into raising his leg, which Dante hitches over his hip. Doing the same for Nero’s other leg, Dante essentially carries him to his bedroom while Nero clings to him.

He won’t lie.  It’s _unbearably_ hot the way Dante can just pick him up like he weighs nothing.

Dante deposits him roughly on the bed and crawls over him, the springs that tormented Nero so much the night before squeaking with a much more tantalizing connotation as Dante comes to loom over him.  His shirt is rucked up to expose his abs, and Dante dips down to lay his tongue flat on that expanse of skin so he can lick his way up to Nero’s nipple, his red-hot gaze holding Nero’s captive so that he can’t look away.

Nero’s back arches against the mattress when Dante reaches the sensitive nub, shocks of pleasure shooting down to his groin as the sharp edges of his teeth work it between them.

While Nero is distracted, Dante gets his fingers underneath the waistband of his underwear and shucks it off, coaxing Nero’s legs in a way that lets him pull it off and fling it off to the side.  With his leaking cock exposed, Nero curls his legs around Dante’s waist to chase any sort of friction he can give him, keening with the continued attention to his nipples.

“Stop fucking around,” Nero pants, tugging Dante’s shirt over his head so he’s not the only one exposed, “and _fuck me_ already.”

“How can I refuse a request like that?” Dante says huskily, ducking down to let Nero strip him.  “You ever done this before, kid?”

Nero _knows_ Dante’s trying to get a rise out of him, but he can’t help but take the bait.  He grabs Dante’s face and forces their faces close enough together that their noses are almost touching.  “You keep asking questions and I’ll start thinking you’re stalling.” Nero nips at Dante’s bottom lip before pulling back, clamping his legs tight around Dante to bring him closer in an obvious invitation for Dante to fuck him.

Groaning helplessly, Dante slid his cock in between Nero’s asscheeks, the glans catching Nero’s rim every so often and making him let out short gasps of pleasure.  Finally, _finally,_ Dante pulled back far enough to line the tip of his dick right up against Nero’s entrance and push in, the intrusion practically _splitting_ Nero open.

Dante pushed in as slowly as he could possibly manage, the slow slide feeling like a fucking _sword_ piercing through Nero, burning him from the inside out.  Once Dante bottoms out, Nero can barely breathe - it feels as if Dante has pushed up into his lungs.

Letting out short little gasps, Nero reaches up to scrabble at Dante’s arms for purchase, attempting to ground himself.  “Too… too big, so _fucking_ big,” Nero sobs, nails breaking skin.  Hissing from the pain, Dante pistons his hips forwards, which leads to Nero letting out a strangled scream more of pain than pleasure.

Once Dante is confident that Nero’s adjusted to his size, he begins to slowly move in and out about an inch, eyes closed and teeth gritted against the way Nero grips him unbearably tight.

Soon enough, the pain gives way to pleasure as Dante finally finds Nero’s prostate again, sliding across it on every thrust in.  At this point, Nero is wailing, head thrown back and exposed for Dante to rake his teeth along its length, leaving a few of hickeys of his own on Nero’s skin that make Nero yelp with the sharp, sweet pain.  Nero clamps down on Dante’s dick because of the biting, Dante letting out a breathless groan when he feels how _tight_ Nero is around him.

“Not gonna last long,” he gasps, his barely-there rhythm already faltering the further he pulls out before ramming back in.  Nero’s close to orgasm himself, keening and _begging_ for Dante to give him _more_ every time he feels his cock drive into his sweet spot.

Desperately trying to chase orgasm and give Nero what he wants, Dante begins ramming into Nero at a feverish pace.  “You’re driving me fucking crazy,” Dante moans, hands tightening in the sheets the harder he slams his hips into Nero’s.  “Gripping me so tight like you want me to _breed_ you.”

“Do it,” Nero sobs, pressing his hips up in vain although Dante’s punishing thrusts practically pin him to the mattress.  “Cum inside me, breed me, _fill me up._ ”

That’s all the permission Dante needs to slam balls-deep inside Nero, grinding against his ass as if he can drive himself deeper than he already is as he lets loose jets of his release that coat Nero’s insides.

Though Dante came, Nero is still approaching the edge, not quite far enough to let himself go.  “Let me take care of you,” Dante grunts, though his head is muddled by post-orgasm bliss.

Through his sleepy haze, Dante pulls out and drags himself down Nero’s body, wasting no time in getting his mouth on Nero’s painfully swollen cock.  Pressing his lips to the head, he pushes forwards and lets Nero’s dick slip inside his mouth and slide against his tongue, continuing to swallow more and more of Nero until his nose is pressed against his pelvis.

Out of his mind and delirious with the need to get off, Nero reaches down and grabs Dante’s head with both hands, fisting them into his hair so he can fuck Dante’s mouth in earnest.  The room is filled with the obscene sounds of Dante choking wetly on Nero’s cock, deepthroating it again when Nero finally cums with Dante’s head held as tighty to his groin as he can manage.

Throat spasming around Nero’s glans, Dante swallows everything Nero has to offer, tears streaming down his cheeks and running down his lips stretched so tightly around Nero’s thick cock.  When he can’t bear the lack of oxygen any longer, Dante pulls back, wiping his mouth and face free of saliva and tears as he regains his breath.

Nero, splayed on his back, is just as out of breath, slowly coming to his senses now that his sexual frustration had dissipated.

He’s silent for a good while as the realization slowly dawns on him that - “...Fuck.  You fucked me raw, didn’t you,” he groans, scrubbing his hands over his face with regret.

“Sorry,” is all Dante has to say as he drops down on his back next to Nero, arm flung across his face to cover up his swollen eyes.  “I know I fuck a _lot_ of people, but I always use a condom - _used_ a condom.  I’m clean, if it makes any difference.”

Nero really shouldn’t take Dante at his word, but the damage is already done.  They fucked, and Nero had a _great_ fucking time, potential STDs be damned.  Nero rolls over to rest his chin on Dante’s chest, brushing his hair back so he can give Dante a full view of his sly smile.  “I knew there had to be something that was bringing all these people here all those nights. I won’t be walking straight for _days_.”

“So you’re not mad at me for keeping you up anymore?” Dante tries, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I’m still mad as hell.  What the fuck do you do for a living, anyways?”  The possibility that Dante is a prostitute is very real, and it’s a possibility that Nero thinks he’s ready for.

Dante avoids Nero’s gaze for a moment before meeting it again for his answer. “I’m a male escort.”  Nero wasn’t far off the mark, then. He reaches down to give Dante a teasing squeeze, regardless of how sensitive he might be at the moment.  Leering, he murmurs, “It would be a waste to be anything else when you’re packing something _this_ big.”

Amazingly, Nero feels Dante start to harden in his hand.  With an incredulous chuckle, Nero starts stroking to see if he can’t bring Dante to full mast.

He’s interrupted, though, when a loud banging noise rings out from the apartment next to Dante’s - 403.

 _“Keep it the fuck down, you freaks!”_ They hear, glancing at each other with barely-suppressed laughter when they realize that they’d just done what Nero had been made to endure all those sleepless nights before.

“I think that’s my cue,” Nero sighs, sitting up to hop off the bed and gather his clothes.  He doesn’t leave without pressing a kiss to Dante’s cheek that the older man clearly wasn’t expecting, eyes wide as he smiles uncontrollably.

“Stop by the bakery again sometime,” Nero says as he’s halfway out the door, brushing his hair back to try and appear like he hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of his life.  “Maybe then you can get _my_ number.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me [@ifrit_inferno ](https://twitter.com/ifrit_inferno) to listen to me scream on a daily basis


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